


oh when i lie with you

by seeingrightly



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9157555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeingrightly/pseuds/seeingrightly
Summary: “My mom keeps asking me questions about you,” Isak says.His eyebrows are drawn together but his mouth curls up just a little. Like he knows it’s a good thing but isn’t sure how he actually feels about it yet. Maybe, anyway. Isak’s expressive but not easy to read, and Even has spent a lot of time guessing what he’s thinking, and then reminding himself that he could be guessing wrong.“You told her?” Even asks.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is a continuation of the scene where isak comes home to even and linn playing video games
> 
> title from "boy" by ra ra riot
> 
> thx to [melissa](saveyouback.tumblr.com) and [alicia](ravenboiz.tumblr.com) for dragging me into skam and also editing this

 

 

 

Even gets into a more comfortable position on his side, resting his head on his arm. Isak’s phone buzzes again, and he huffs, probably assuming it’s Vilde asking another question about the Kosegruppa Christmas party. His expression shifts to mild surprise and he pulls the phone closer to his face, staring at the message for a few seconds before texting back.

Even watches Isak type out his response. He looks somewhere between exasperated and fond. His group chat with the boys, maybe. He sighs and rests the phone on his chest and turns back to Even.

“My mom keeps asking me questions about you,” Isak says.

His eyebrows are drawn together but his mouth curls up just a little. Like he knows it’s a good thing but isn’t sure how he actually feels about it yet. Maybe, anyway. Isak’s expressive but not easy to read, and Even has spent a lot of time guessing what he’s thinking, and then reminding himself that he could be guessing wrong.

“You told her?” Even asks.

He presses his lips together and waits. Isak isn’t looking at him. Sometimes that means he doesn’t want to talk and sometimes that means he’s about to. Even is not the most patient person and Even is not normally one to spend his time worrying, but he does like to think about what things mean or what they could mean, twisting and unraveling them. He’s not used to having to do it with a person, yet.

He shifts a little closer, and Isak heaves out a heavy breath.

“Last week,” he says. “She took a few days to answer, but it was - good.”

“Good,” Even says, smiling when Isak looks over.

There are things he wants to ask, about Isak, about his mom. Things he has been thinking that he might not have to think anymore, if he got answers. Maybe he should ask them. But he’s not sure yet if Isak would rather untangle himself. And right now, when Even still feels weighed down, isn’t the time to try to figure it out. That’s for another day.

“What is she asking about me?” Even asks instead, simple, right this minute.

Isak lets out a little laugh and runs a hand over his face.

“The last one asked what you look like,” he says. “Today it’s stuff like that.”

He holds his phone against his chest for a moment before rolling onto his side, letting it drop between them. He tugs at one of the strings on Even’s sweatshirt - Isak’s sweatshirt that Even is wearing. Even could tease him about the text, ask how Isak described him. Focus on now. Before he decides, though, Isak starts to talk again.

“She started asking me about you because I ditched the Christmas concert to come find you on Friday,” he says. “She wanted to know where I went.”

“You saw her,” Even says, softer and more seriously than he intends to.

Isak nods and brushes Even’s hair back, looking at him without quite looking at him.

“I texted her last week because I was happy,” he says slowly. “She didn’t text me back til this week when I - when I didn’t know what was happening. When I needed it.”

He curls in on himself a little, pressing his face into the pillow, and Even reaches over, tracing his visible eyebrow. In this minute, Isak will talk. In the next minute, Even will think about what Isak has said. Right now, he will listen.

Isak sighs, and when he talks again, his voice is a little muffled.

“She - she’s very fixated on the Bible. For the past few years. It’s all she really talks about. But I guess I never really tried to talk to her about anything else, once it started. My dad too. We just kind of… stopped. Because it was hard.”

He looks at Even, finally, taking a breath.

“But I talked to her because I wanted to tell her about you. About me. And she - it was fine. It was good. She’s my mom,” he says, his voice breaking on the last few words.

Even cups his face, strokes a thumb just under his eye. Isak smiles just a little, still tightly wound, still more words in him that he’s thinking about releasing. Even will catch them. Isak has been solid and sturdy and sure these past few days, in a way Even hasn’t really seen him before. And Even still feels like he’s wading through deep water. But Isak can’t be like that all the time and Even won’t be like this all the time, and when Isak releases his words, Even will catch them.

“It is hard,” Even says. “And it’s new. You’re allowed to be scared.”

“That’s my point though,” Isak says, running his fingers through the hair just over Even’s ear. “I’ve been scared. But now I - I’ve been wanting to tell you but I haven’t figured out how... It’s not just you. You’re not an exception to the rule, or something. My stupid rule about mental illness. You’re helping me be better for my mom and she’s helping me be better for you.”

Even closes his eyes and lets the words wash over him and settle. He has wondered, in the darker minutes these past few days, when Isak will fully realize what he’s dealing with. That once Even seems normal again, it isn’t actually gone. He’s wondered how long it’ll take for Isak to stop pretending that Even doesn’t belong on the list of things to remove from his life.

He isn’t thinking that way right now. He’ll probably think that way again in the future.

But to hear Isak say that his own mindset has changed, and to see evidence of it in the text message notification that buzzes against the bed between them - that helps. It matters.

Even opens his eyes and passes the phone to Isak.

“I hope you told her how nice you think my hair is,” he says, maybe not as grandly as he would on a good day, but he raises his eyebrows and he smiles.

Isak laughs, that self-conscious laugh where he tucks his chin down to his chest, the kind that means that what Even said is a little too close to the truth. Even shifts closer as Isak texts his mom back, resting an arm across his waist and pressing his face into his shoulder. He could read the conversation from this angle, but he closes his eyes and breathes in deep.

“Hey,” he says when Isak puts his phone down. “Thanks.”

Isak puts a hand to the side of his face, directing him upward til he can press their lips together.

“You too,” Isak says, nudging Even’s nose with his own.

Isak lets his head fall back against the bed and Even rests his cheek on his shoulder. Bit by bit, minute by minute, they’re figuring themselves and each other out. Nothing has to be figured out right now.

In this next minute, Even will close his eyes and press his nose against Isak’s collarbone. Isak will play with Even’s hair and answer a text. The minute will pass. Then they’ll decide what to do with the next one.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at [lydia---branwell](lydia---branwell.tumblr.com)


End file.
